‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. Earles strode into the waiting-room. “Stop,” he said. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out the great shrouded shapes of the furniture. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes.
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